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Present…
The memory faded, leaving Eren anchored in the now, in Savage's body, nose-to-snout with the captured terror.
He had considered it. He'd tried the direct way. Obsidian had been judgment, strength, finality. And it had triggered nothing but abject, trauma-soaked panic in the creature. Now, he had to try Armin's way.
Savage took a slow, careful step closer, his movements non-threatening. He lowered his head slightly, a submissive gesture in canine body language. He let out a soft, rumbling chuff; not a growl, but a deep, vibrating exhalation meant to convey curiosity, not threat.
The Vulpimancer flinched, all five eyes tracking him. Its nostrils flared, drinking in Savage's scent: musky, organic, predatory, but utterly devoid of that hated, sterile crystal resonance. The paralyzing terror induced by Obsidian began to recede, replaced by a wary, exhausted confusion. This small, orange-furred creature before it… it smelled like pack. Like the warm, familiar scents of the deep warrens of Vulpin. It sounded like kin.
A low, pained whine escaped the Vulpimancer's throat. It was a sound of profound confusion and suffering. Then, a series of growls and grunts, formed in its mouth, vibrating through the air. To human ears, it was nonsense. To Savage's attuned sonic sense, it was a clear, desperate question, painted in vibration and scent-markers.
<
It was working.
Eren's heart leapt. It could communicate. It was sentient, at least on an instinctual level. It wasn't a mindless killing machine.
Savage chuffed again, softer. He took another step, now within reach of the creature's trapped muzzle. He carefully, slowly, raised one clawed hand, not to strike, but to gesture to himself, then gently to his own nose mimicking the Vulpimancer's primary senses.
<
The Vulpimancer's eyes narrowed, studying him. The milky sixth orb pulsed. The clicks that came back were slower, layered with a deep, sorrowful resonance.
<
Crystal merchant? The Vulpimancer saw Obsidian and…thought he was someone else? Or something else…
Savage growled curiously and with caution.
<
________________________
Mike hung from the splintered platform's edge, his powerful fingers gouging furrows in the rough tree trunk while his boots scrambled for purchase on the sheer drop. Twenty feet below, the partly crystal-littered ground promised a swift, messy end. His injured arm screamed in protest, blood slicking his grip. The Silent Knight stood over him, a porcelain-masked specter of finality, its twin blades catching the moonlight. It raised one for a precise, surgical strike; not to kill, but to sever the fingers that held Mike to life.
'Not like this,' Mike thought, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. 'Not falling like some godsdamned rookie.'
The blade began its descent.
"YAHOOOOO! SPECIAL DELIVERY FROM THE SURVEY CORPS—COMING THROUGH!"
The shout shattered the lethal tension like a cannonball through glass. Hange who had become a green-clad comet of pure, undiluted chaos; rocketed from the treeline. She wasn't swinging with grace; she was ballistic, ODM cables humming under impossible strain. Hange had evidently hooked a nearby tree, kicked off another, and was now hurtling horizontally across the gap, her body parallel to the ground, arms outstretched like a furious, bespectacled missile.
She didn't aim for the Knight's blade. She aimed for the person itself.
The Silent Knight, its focus entirely on Mike, had a microsecond to register the incoming, screaming projectile. It began to turn, an impressively swift pivot, but it was too late.
THWUMP-CRASH.
Hange's shoulder connected with the Knight's face with the sound of a sack of potatoes hitting a stone wall. The impact was rather messy, bone-jarring, and accompanied by Hange's own pained "OOF!" as her already injured side shrieked in protest. But it did the job.
The silent knight was lifted off its feet, his perfect balance obliterated. He staggered back; one step, two; boots skidding on the moss-slick wood until they found empty air. For a surreal moment, it seemed to hang there, its cracked mask tilting as if in silent, perplexed surprise. For a terrifying moment, it teetered. Mike caught a glimpse of a gloved hand shooting out, the faint zzzip of an ODM anchor firing, and then the Knight vanished over the edge, yanked away into the darkness below.
Hange landed in a crouch beside Mike, the crate thudding to the platform. She straightened, brushing her hands together with a satisfied huff.
"Whew! Nothing like a good old-fashioned ram to clear the air! You okay there, Mike? Hanging in there—literally?"
Mike, still dangling, the absurdity cutting through the adrenaline, let out a short, pained bark of laughter. "What… the hell… was that?"
"Improvised physics!" Hange chirped, adjusting her cracked glasses. "Momentum plus mass equals 'get off my friend!' Now come on, up you get!" She grabbed his good arm with both hands and hauled.
It was a ludicrous sight: the slight, bloodied scientist trying to heave the massive, muscle-bound man to safety. She grunted, face turning red, veins standing out in her neck. "Nngh—come on, you big lug! Help a girl out!"
Mike, half-amused, used his legs to push off the trunk. With a final, grating heave, he rolled onto the platform, gasping. The wound on his arm throbbed, fresh blood seeping, but the immediate dread was gone. He sat up, eyeing Hange as she winced, pressing a hand to the bloody gash on her side.
"How'd you get through?" Mike asked, nodding toward the distant gate where clashes still echoed.
Hange waved a dismissive, bloody hand. "Pfft, nothing! A little gate-crashing like you did. Those mask-wearing creeps thought they could bar us—ha!" She tried to stand tall, but another twinge made her hiss. "Okay, maybe they got a few good licks in. The adaptable bastards."
Mike's gaze was flat. "That 'nothing' is bleeding through your shirt."
"A scratch!" she insisted, though her voice cracked. "Look who is talking your entire arm is weeping! Now, what's the sitrep? What fresh hell is this?"
Mike's expression hardened. "They're purging the cadets. Using the beast to do the work, then cutting down survivors. A total cleanse."
The manic light in Hange's eyes crystallized into something cold and deadly. The news confirmed the horror she'd glimpsed on her frantic push inward. "I saw… some of them. On the way. The little ones…" Her voice trembled with a fury so profound it was almost quiet. "We'll dissect their 'divine order' until there's nothing left but regret."
"And the Crystal Titan is here."
Mike dropped the statement like a stone.
Hange froze. Her furious tirade died. She blinked slowly. Her head tilted, birdlike. "I'm sorry, my hearing must be compromised. It sounded like you said the Crystal Titan is here."
"I did."
"Mike Zacharias," Hange said, her voice dangerously calm. "If this is your idea of a joke to lighten the mood, I will personally use your own ODM wire to floss your teeth!"
Mike simply pointed around them. At the glittering green diamond spikes pinning a knight to a tree. At the smooth, angled slab of crystal that had saved a cadet. At the dozens of crystalline shards littering the battlefield like emerald hail.
"Weren't you looking?"
Hange's gaze followed his finger. She looked. She processed. The fury, the grief—it was all momentarily overwhelmed by a surge of pure, unadulterated scientific ecstasy.
She imploded. Then she exploded.
Her hands flew to the sides of her head. A sound escaped her that was part squeal, part sob, part intellectual revelation. "IT'S REAL! THE SAMPLE! THE SHARD! IT'S A LIVING BEING AND IT'S HERE! AND IT'S MAKING THINGS!" She spun, nearly toppling off the platform.
"Where is it?! Is it allied with this slaughter?! Please tell me it's not a psychotic crystal monster, Mike, I don't think my heart could take the disappointment!"
"No," Mike rumbled, steadying her. "Opposite. It saved me. Spoke. Then went to fight the demon dog."
Hange grabbed his harness, shaking him with surprising strength. "SPOKE? IT ACTUALLY DID SPOKE INTELLIGENTLY? WHERE IS MY BEAUTIFUL CRYSTAL BASTARD?!"
"Fighting the dog," Mike repeated, prying her off. "And we still have a commander-class threat. The one in charge. 'Ral'."
Hange took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the frenzy back into its cage. Duty, horror, and burning curiosity warred on her face. "Right. The head fanatic. My squad… Moblit, the others…"
"Can't leave your assistant," Mike stated.
"No. I can't." She made a decision, her eyes hardening. "You go. Help any cadets still breathing. I'll find my squad and deal with the command element. Then I am getting a sample from that lifeform if I have to lick it off the ground!"
They moved, a study in contrasts: the hulking scout and the wiry, bleeding scientist, both descending from the platform toward their respective hells.
Elsewhere
Ser Valerius slumped against a shattered water trough, his state a red haze of agony. The beast-hunter's blade had not just taken his eye; it had shattered the orbit. Every heartbeat was a thunderous pulse of white-hot fire in his skull. A junior Knight fumbled with a field dressing, the cloth soaking through instantly.
"Damn them," Valerius hissed, the words slurred through teeth clenched against the pain. "Damned meddling Scouts. Damned suicidal idealists." His mind raced, calculating the catastrophic failure. The mission was compromised. The Scouts were here in force. The source of trouble was not subdued yet. Sir Aldric would not merely be displeased; he would see this as a profound weakness. Valerius could already hear the cold, disappointed tone.
'I entrusted you with a divine scalpel, Valerius, and you have used it as a clumsy hammer.'
"Hold still, my lord, please," the young Knight pleaded, fumbling with a roll of bandage.
"I am trying," Valerius snarled, "to contemplate how we salvage a holy mission from the clutches of chattering monkeys and… and that."
"That" was the other abomination. The Crystal Titan from the Shiganshina reports. It shouldn't be here. Its presence warped the entire equation, introducing a variable of immense, unknown power. Two cosmic blights, converging. Is this a pattern? An invasion? The thought was as terrifying as it was electrifying.
"You! Impostor! You will answer for your crimes before a military tribunal!"
The voice, laced with righteous anger and a slight tremor, came from above. Valerius and his aide looked up.
Moblit was perched in the crook of a large oak tree, his ODM anchor embedded deep in a branch above. He held his sword pointed shakily downwards, his face pale but determined. He'd seen the butchered cadets, the cruel efficiency of the Knights. The intellectual who yearned for order was now face-to-face with the brutal reality of the "order" these men served, and he was furious.
Valerius stared up at him. The pain, the frustration, the sheer absurdity of being lectured by a bookish Scout clinging to a tree, ignited something cold and venomous in his gut. He began to laugh. It was a wet, horrible sound, bubbling with blood and bitterness.
"My, my," Valerius croaked, his one good eye gleaming. "A tribunal? Is that your great threat? You'll… what? Charge me with violating the Cadet Corps dress code? The 'laws' of this stagnant puddle of a kingdom mean less than nothing to the divine mandate we serve, boy."
Moblit's knuckles whitened on his sword hilt. "You murdered children."
"We cleansed witnesses to a cosmic infection," Valerius corrected, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "A necessary surgery. You wouldn't understand. Your mind is too small."
He gestured faintly with his good hand. A shadow detached itself from the deeper darkness at the base of the tree. The Silent Knight's mask was now cracked, a spiderweb of fractures running from the temple down to the jawline. Through the cracks, nothing but a glowing red eye was visible. It moved with a slight hitch in its step; Hange's tackle had left a mark; but its speed was undiminished. It didn't leap. It simply appeared on the branch beside Moblit, as if the intervening space had ceased to exist.
Moblit had time for a gasp, to begin a turn.
The Silent Knight's elbow…or perhaps it was a piston-driven kick, the movement was too fast to track; slammed into Moblit's side. There was a sickening crunch of ribs. The air left Moblit's lungs in a voiceless rush while his sword tumbled from nerveless fingers, pinwheeling down to stick in the earth. His body folded, consciousness fleeing like a blown candle, and he slumped, held awkwardly in the tree's embrace by his own tangled harness, like a broken doll dangling over the abyss.
The Silent Knight landed soundlessly beside Valerius, giving a slight, stiff nod.
"Your timing remains impeccable," Valerius grunted, allowing the junior Knight to finally cinch the bandage tight. From the other side of the clearing, more figures emerged. Gideon and Agil, looking worse for wear; Gideon sported a spectacular bruise across his jaw and nose as he carried a heavy artillery though now dented, and Agil limped, favoring a side that was most likely bruised. Two other Forever Knights followed, one an impostor instructor dragged an unconscious Hannes, his head lolling as a fresh bruise bloomed on his temple. In the armored clad Knight's other arm, Armin and Mikasa struggled fiercely; Armin kicking futilely, Mikasa twisting like an eel, her eyes blazing murder.
"Got 'em, my lord," Gideon grunted, putting the device down. "These runts put up a fight—especially the girl."
Valerius straightened slightly, greeting them with a bloody grin. "Agil. Gideon. You're late."
"Had to deal with unwanted trouble," Agil replied, wiping sweat from his brow. "These three... nosy little pests."
Gideon nodded toward the snare machine set down—a bulky, brass-and metal contraption humming with restrained energy. "We're sure they're secure. But the snare... we've only got one shot left, thanks to this little runt here messing with it." He glared at Armin, who met his gaze defiantly despite the fear in his eyes.
Valerius turned his remaining eye on the captives, staring intensely at the group; especially Armin, who shrank back slightly under the weight of that cold gaze.
"That was quite brave of you, young lad," Valerius said, his voice dripping with mock admiration. "Utterly foolish, of course, tampering with things beyond your understanding. But brave. What shall we do with these interlopers, hmm?"
Gideon cracked his sour neck. "Kill 'em quick. We don't have time for this charade."
"Let them go," Mikasa said, her voice low and deadly as a drawn blade. "Your fight is with the creature. Not with children."
"Playing that card I see. Our fight," Valerius corrected, "is with the corruption of the natural order. You have consorted with it. You are part of the infection. Regardless of age." His eye flicked to Gideon who looked both conflicted and scared.
"My lord…there's…also another problem."
"And what could that be?"
Gideon's eyes darted sideways. "There was a third child. That one had a device of some sort."
Valerius's face darkened. "Where is the lad?"
"Gone. But not before he… he changed. His arm lit up, and he became… it. The Crystal Titan."
The revelation hit Valerius like a physical blow. His breath caught. A child was the Titan this whole time? The abomination wasn't just a creature; it was a transformation. But it didn't sound like how Queen Freida's worked. A blight hiding in human skin. Just like the vile, xenophobic creatures Sir Aldric had purged some years ago—the ones that could mask their true, disgusting forms. The very technology they now wielded among themselves. Had they been wrong? Had they missed a strain? Or was this something new, something worse? Or was it…the one from the chapel?
"A shapeshifter," Valerius breathed, a fanatic's zeal mixing with the agony. "A true abomination. Sir Aldric believed he had cleansed their like. It seems the universe is testing us with a more insidious variant." He looked at his captured prizes, then at the Snare. One shot.
His thoughts were interrupted by a new sound that rolled across the devastated quad. It was answered by a terrified yelp from the same direction. Everyone turned.
In the distance, near a ruined shed, the scene was clear: The demon dog; completely secured in a glittering cage of green crystals, most definitely the work of that accursed Crystal Titan; thrashed and roared. And beside it... another demon dog, smaller, orange-furred compared to the purple, communicating with it in low, rumbling tones.
Valerius's eye widened, then narrowed in cold calculation. "Hold that thought."
"Two of them?" Agil whispered. "That can't be right."
"No," Valerius breathed, "It doesn't, but it's communicating with the other beast." Revulsion twisted his bloody features. Collusion between blights.
"Orders?" Gideon asked.
"The Snare," Valerius said, extending a hand. "Give it to me. One shot. We take them both."
Gideon handed over the heavy launcher. Valerius grunted, propping it on the trough, sighting down the ornate barrel despite the agony pulsing his skull.
As he settled the stock, Mikasa moved.
It was a burst of pure violence. She drove her heel down, crushing her captor's foot, used his grip to pivot, and scissor-kicked the Knight behind her and Armin with a CRACK of shattering jaw gushing teeth and blood. She landed and surged toward Valerius.
She almost made it.
But the Silent Knight was there in an instant, his cracked mask tilting as he intercepted her. His elbow strike caught her in the side, knocking the wind from her lungs in a whoosh, sending her sprawling. She gasped, clutching her ribs, but scrambled up, defiant. A gloved hand shot out, catching her by the jacket and bindings, arresting her momentum effortlessly. It lifted her slightly, her boots leaving ground.
For a moment, they were still. The red glowing eye beneath the cracked mask staring down at the girl who struggled like a trapped wolf, her grey eyes blazing. There was no malice, no crushing pressure; just a clinical assessment. The mask tilted. A faint, almost imperceptible hum. A flicker of… curiosity? Interest?
Why was this person looking at her like that?!
Then the moment passed. The Knight shoved her back towards Gideon, who caught her with a grunt and a renewed, wary grip.
Valerius, who hadn't flinched, settled the Snare's crosshairs. "Persistent little thing," he muttered, then he took a deep breath. "Now, let's end this farce."
He pulled the trigger.
The snare fired, but there was no deafening blast. A soft, resonant THOOM pulsed from the device. A sphere of condensed, glowing net of crackling energy erupted from the device, streaking through the night like a comet of agony. It crossed the distance in a heartbeat.
Chapter 27-31 are already available on Patreon.com/Weeb Fanthom.